A Modern Instance
by revivified
Summary: Lily Evans during her third year at Hogwarts falls in love with James Potter, to the horror of her parents. But will she always be able to cope with Jame's hurtful personality?
1. Yes and No

Little Whinging, Surrey, was the ideal place for any family to take residence. Declared by many fashionable lady's magazines to be one of the most charming suburban areas in all of the United Kingdom, it was viewed with high admiration. With pristine and immaculately-kept parks, with some of the most successful public schools in the country, with a low crime rate, and with plenty of caring neighbors, it was the utopian town. Unblemished by the flaws of humanity, it attracted many a young family in the hopes of raising their children in as perfect conditions as they could find. Here in Little Whinging they hoped they could raise their children in happy friendships with the other children on the street, attend schools led by some of the most praised teachers in the area, and more. One of these families was the Evans.

The Evan's were your typical, conservative family. Mrs. Evans worked as a bank-teller for Little Whinging Credit Union, while Mr. Evans was employed as a plumber at the Dursley Brothers, a business of great prosperity in the community. They were not, as you can imagine, the wealthiest of people, though they earned enough money to persist. They raised two perfect young girls, one named Lily and the other Petunia. One would imagine that these two girls behaved most kindly toward each other, treated each other with great fondness and respect. This was not the case, however: Petunia maintained a rather antagonistic attitude toward her sister out of envy. Indeed, even her parents were a bit afraid, a bit intimidated by their daughter. You can imagine why they were a bit frightened of her; for the last three years she had attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Strong conservative Christians, Mr. and Mrs. Evans insisted three years ago that their daughter would not attend such a school, that they would refuse to let her be integrated into the society of the occult. Their proclamations wavered as Albus Dumbledore himself, headmaster of the school, arrived to inform them that practicing magic was compatible with Christianity, that the powers which Lily possessed and could harness through an education were not derived from the devil. Initially skeptical of this claim, they finally could no longer defy the inevitable and agreed to allow their daughter to attend the school. They monitored her closely to ensure that, as Dumbledore claimed, she was not susceptible to demons. As time passed her parents grew more open to Lily's abilities. There was no observable evidence that she had succumbed to the powers of hell, as they had feared; she was the normal girl they had always known.

On the other hand, Petunia, possibly jealous or still attached to her passionate Christian ideals, still rejected silently her sister. Petunia was convinced that she based her opinion solely on the Bible on which the family relied, a charge that her parents rebuked. How could the magic Lily was performing harm anyone, they asked her. What damage had she done by performing magic, they wondered. It was to their astonishment that their daughter resisted Lily. It was only modern that they accept her. They didn't know how she did it, magic, but they knew that it was modern. Even though they were a bit uncomfortable around Lily, it was no reason to justify rejecting her entirely!

Of course, it was only the Evan's who were aware of the peculiar fact that Lily was a witch. They had, at the demand of Dumbledore, refrained – as if they even needed a reason – from divulging this information with the neighbors. They claimed that Lily was attending a boarding school in Scotland for girls planning to pursue entering a convent and becoming a nun. The neighbors were appalled that a girl as bright and as ambitious as Lily would lower herself to such degrading standards of poverty and slowly the memory of her vanished from their minds, though they sometimes met her over the summer when she returned home. Sometimes they even met her during the Christmas holidays while she was out shopping for gifts for her parents at the mall on the other side of town. It is at this time that we begin our story: during the Christmas holidays.

The sun hovered vividly, low in the western sky on this fair Tuesday afternoon. An orange fireball, it transformed the clouds into a calming pink and the sky into a mystical purple. The snow sparkled magically beneath the last remaining rays of light, glistening like diamonds and dazzling the eye. The cold that Mother Nature had inflicted upon the landscape had forced the residents of Little Whinging to withdraw into their warm and comforting homes, soothed by a cup of hot cocoa and a blazing fireplace. No one, with the exception of a brave child, left their homes, and if they did, they returned inside as quickly as they could before their faces burned with cold even more.

Two souls were rebelling against the social norms, however. A young man about the age of fourteen and a woman of about the same age were standing around a snowman, attending to his features. The girl raised her hand to place a carrot as the nose. Grinning softly, she pushed the carrot in until it was secure. The boy lowered his face to grin amiably at her. He had fair skin, softly curved cheeks, and gently disheveled black hair that was concealed for the most part beneath the cap he wore. His piercing grey eyes stared fiercely into her green ones. She, her head raised defiantly, watched him anxiously as her orange hair dangled in its typically graceful way behind her. Her lips curved lovingly and her nose was profuse with mucus. Cheeks rosy from the freezing weather, her ears red, and her body shaking, she proposed to James Potter, "Shall we go inside now? I think I have had enough of this weather, James."

"Yes, we better. You look bad, Lily," James said concernedly. Having said thus, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her against his chest as they stumbled through the deep snow back to the door of the Evan's residence. Lily shivered but James guided her. At the door he released her; she dug around in her pocket for a key, withdrew it, and inserted it into the lock. Opening the door, she ushered him inside. James, stomping his feet on the rug and leaving plenty of snow on the floor, watched Lily as she deposited her coat on the couch in the living room and approached the blazing fire, tossing off her mittens and letting her hands be warmed. James looked at her and wondered to himself what man could resist the allure of a girl as amazing as Lily.

Lily tossed aside her hair, throwing it out of her eyes, and watched the flames crackle. Her hands extended toward the flames, she didn't notice that James was approaching her, removing his coat as he did so. Once behind her, he lifted it around her shoulders, letting it cover her shivering body. Lily, surprised at first, accepted the offer and let him wrap the coat around her.

"Thank you, James," she whispered as she continued to view the fire.

"It was my simplest pleasure. You look awfully cold, Lily," he answered.

"I can't help it that I am. You were the one who forced me outside to make that travesty of a snowman!" Lily cried mockingly.

"You were the one who insisted that you were bored. What else were we to do, do you suggest?" James wondered.

"We could have read literature," Lily retorted, "or done the homework Horace Slughorn assigned us over the holidays."

"Literature is only appreciated because people like to talk about it but never read it. Homework was only designed by the educational establishment for being delayed until the last moment. I would hope that we will never do either."

"You are such a maliciously uncivilized spirit, James!" Lily cried, turning around and poking a finger into his chest flirtingly. James grinned and so did she. "It is no wonder that my parents are not that affectionate of you. Perhaps they were right in saying that you were barbaric."

Laughing, James replied as he collapsed on the sofa by the window, "But wouldn't life be awfully dull if there were no barbarians?"

"Oh, James, you are deplorable!" Lily murmured as she lowered her hands and sat down on the sofa beside her beloved. "Why did I never listen to my parents and heed their warnings?"

"Following what your parents say is thoroughly not modern, my dear," James laughed gently, curling a finger through Lily's shining hair and indulging himself in its perfume. "It is more expected that we do what we want, you know."

"Those who don't know their history are bound to repeat it," Lily rebuked happily.

"History is but a tedious series of people whose greed for power causes them to hurt everyone else; there is no cause and affect, there is no plot, and there is no pattern. And its only lesson is humility, I am afraid."

"That is more like it, James," Lily sighed. "If only you acted more like that most of the time, my parents would be more willing to welcome you."

James grinned and rested his hand on top of Lily's, letting his fingers entwine with her own. Wrapped around his fingers, Lily's cold ones gained some warmth. Silence prevailed between them for a few moments as they watched the fireplace peacefully, James resting his head on Lily's shoulder. He wore an expression of pure contentedness on his face.

"I forgot to tell you something, Lily," James said carelessly from his position.

Lily, her face nestled in his hair and enjoying it, replied, "What is it?"

"I received a most peculiar note from Remus Lupin in which I was told that he has fallen ill from the dragonpox and has been moved to St. Mungo's until he recovers."

Lily withdrew her head, shocked, from James, looking at him with horror. James nearly fell down onto the pillows in the quickness of her move. She stared at him as if she didn't know him, as if he were a person with whom she wasn't familiar. Aghast, she proclaimed, "I am astonished that you are so un-loyal that you are not by his side at this very moment!"

"His case is not that severe, Lily," James reassured her, raising his hands to calm her.

"Are you sure?" she questioned.

"Yes, he has promised me that it is nothing to worry about that and that he is almost entirely recovered."

"That is good," Lily sighed, letting her worries wash away. "I could not bear to date a man who wasn't there to help his friends."

"Oh, I think you could, Lily," James flirted.

Ignoring him, Lily asked demandingly, "Do you intend to write him?"

"I have not sent a response yet," James answered.

"Not even a wish of good luck?"

"I am afraid I have not."

"What a most inconsiderate person you are! Perhaps that is the reason you are as appealing as you are!" Lily muttered.

"I promise you I shall, as soon as we are done here, send him an owl wishing him well," James guaranteed.

"Thank you, James. Tell him that I wish him well."

"I shall," James said.

"You bother to reply to all of those of letters from Gladys Gudgeon, your chaser, but you don't even care to speak with your friend in St. Mungo's. I am amazed at you, James," Lily observed.

"The difference between the letters from Gladys and the letters from Remus is that hers are actually interesting. Remus, as you know, is not the most exciting personality," James said firmly, throwing his head against the pillows with his hands behind his head. Lily watched him with admiration before tossing the pillow behind her toward his chest and he caught it. Laughing, he added, "Gladys is a lovely girl."

"The way you speak about her, I have to wonder whether or not you are in love with her!"

"Now, Lily, how could I betray you? You know that I am solely devoted to you and no one else."

"I cannot believe you," Lily admitted sadly as she turned her head toward the fire. Her eyes concentrated on the blaze for a while and James looked at her with disbelief, his hair as messy as ever from the static.

"You never believe anything," James said. He lifted himself on his elbows and hovered over the pillows, looking at Lily. Lily herself turned her head away from the fire to stare at him miserably. She viewed him with a mixture of emotions before leaning across the couch, lying herself on his chest, her face above his. His chest heaved up and down beneath her and it was a wonderful sensation. James lifted his arms and wrapped them around her back, so that she was in his arms. She moved one of her hands and dragged it softly against his cheek, relishing in its softness. Then before they could help themselves, she had lowered her chin and attached her lips to his for the first time. Soft, tender, and delicious, her lips collided against his. It was like everything she could have dreamed of and more: smooth, pure, and gentle, his lips interacted with hers, going up and down. She couldn't believe how magical it was. Then they withdrew, looking at each other as though they had met for the first time.

"Well," Lily remarked, clapping her hands in distress. "Let's just hope we weren't seen by the neighbors. They are not that tolerant of affection, you know."

"If they saw us kissing and were offended, it would only be because they were jealous," James said proudly, dragging a hand through his hair and grinning.

Lily, laughing at his wisdom, grabbed his cold hand, lifted it to her lips, and kissed it with a seductive look in her eyes. James viewed her with great amusement, as though he were both annoyed but amused by her. She let his hand drop down to the tan couch again.

"You know, maybe your parents are right. Maybe my friendship is negating a harmful influence in your life. You are becoming disturbingly obsessed with me, that is clear," James observed.

"Lord Byron said in Don Juan that man's love is of man's life a thing apart – Tis woman's whole existence. I now realize how true he was in acknowledging that," Lily retorted, defending herself.

"Such a hopeless woman you are!" James yelled admiringly.

"I was ever since I first met you, James," Lily muttered as she leaned forward yet again and placed softly another peck on his face. Her hair drifted around her head and collided against his face as she did so. James watched her retreat, watched her fair face, watched her turn back, and his heart yearned for her more than ever before.

"What do you propose we do to make the best of the remaining days of this Christmas holiday, James," Lily inquired hastily, as though desperate to change from the subject from the romantic awkwardness that was alienating them at the moment.

"I thought we could fly over the countryside on my broom tomorrow," James answered.

"Is that not a bit dangerous? Could we not be seen?" Lily wondered.

"No, we could use my Invisibility Cloak, remember?" James said calmly.

"Would it not blow away in the wind?" Lily questioned.

"Not if we attached it by magic to ourselves, dear."

"I am unsure whether or not we should go," Lily admitted. "It seems rather foolish to soar over the countryside on a broom at these times."

"Here," said James, procuring from his pocket a piece of parchment and a quill. "Pretend that I submitted this question to you by owl and you must send a response using but one word."

He handed her the items that she gracefully accepted. Concealing what she was writing with her left arm, she scribbled a quick response on the paper and returned the sheet to James. He took it with ease, as though confident in his hope, but once he viewed the sheet his face registered a look of disbelief.

"I believe you are Confunded, Lily," James declared, with his mouth open in shock.

"I don't believe I am. If I were, I would be drooling."

"You wrote 'no' in answer to the question that I posed to you when you intended to say 'yes'. I am persuaded that you in your happiness were unable to distinguish between how to spell the two. Were you not planning to say 'yes'?" James argued.

"No, I was in perfect mental condition when I replied, thank you very much. And I did want to say no."

James said, returning the sheet to her along with the quill, "Now, why don't you rewrite your answer, to just verify it?" Lily was about to raise the quill again to write the "n" when another hand wrapped itself around her wrist. Frightened, she realized that it belonged to James. He was leaning across the couch and forcing her hand to move in such a way that it created an unintelligible "Yes" on the sheet below her.

"James, have you no courtesy or respect for me?" Lily yelled as he forced her hand along.

"But of course," he replied unworriedly as he finished the job. He collapsed back down on the couch while Lily lifted her hands to her mouth, smothering her giggles. Her eyes were almost filled with tears and James was sure that they were from laughter.

"What time do you propose we meet tomorrow for the event?" James asked, spreading his arm on the rear of the couch around Lily's back and pulling her into his embrace.

Submitting to his arms, Lily answered, "Why not two o'clock tomorrow afternoon?"

"The perfect time, I think," James said and tightened his hold around her shoulders. Then he released her. He rose from the couch and Lily looked at him elevate his body with sadness, as though nothing hurt her more than to be separated from him.

"Must you leave this soon?" Lily asked despondently.

"I am afraid I must return home in time for dinner. Otherwise, I fear my mother may yet again order Agnim our house-elf to cut up my underwear like before," James said. He stretched his arms out and yawned, as though exhausted, before walking around the couch.

"How thoroughly unpleasant…for you, that is," Lily replied quite seductively.

"And you claim that I am an evil spirit, Lily!" He laughed as he collected his coat from around her shoulders. She pushed herself forward to let him take it. Once he had gathered it in his arms, he began donning it quickly.

"See you, Lily," he said as he left the room and opened the door in the entryway, letting the light from the brilliantly red sun illuminate in a thin ray the floor.

"Bye, James. See you tomorrow!" Lily bid farewell as she herself rose from the couch to shut the door behind him. Once the door was firmly closed, Lily collapsed on the floor in a hysterical heap, a grin spreading across her face. Before she could stop herself she had seized the doorknob and had kissed it passionately, relishing in the very fact that James himself had touched it. She swore she could even smell him there.

Lily, realizing how stupid she was, withdrew from the doorknob and sighed, shaking her head; as James had said, she was hopeless.

That evening at dinner, she did not relinquish to her parents the most enthralling development of the day: that she had exchanged her first kiss with James Potter from up the street, her good friend. Mr. and Mrs. Evans were safe under the delusion that their daughter was only seeking a friendship with him; it was clear that they never even considered the possibility of their relationship amounting to a romance. Lily dreaded how they would react to the news; they were already concerned that James might seduce her to criminal mischief, from what she had confided in them about his trouble at Hogwarts. If they were to learn that she had kissed him, she was sure, Mrs. Evans would likely suffer from a heart attack and Mr. Evans would reject her. They expected for her to find a man of far more respectable personality in the community and not a delinquent.

Her parents noticed that she was intensely quiet as she ate her lasagna. Curious, for she usually burst with conversation each night, Mr. Evans interrupted the silence with a question, "How was your day, Lily?"

"Oh, it was mostly dull. I must say I am looking forward to going back to Hogwarts," Lily answered briskly.

"You completed all the homework you were assigned over the holidays, I trust?" Mrs. Evans inquired as she raised a fork to her mouth.

"Yes, I have, Mother," Lily said.

"Always the hard worker, you are, Lily!" Mr. Evans praised her. "Now, as for you Petunia," he added, turning his head to his right to look upon his other daughter, "you should follow your sister's example. You procrastinate too much."

Petunia merely scowled in response and then responded, as though offended, "I have been enjoying the holidays, something to which I am sure I am entitled?"

"Yes, Petunia," Mr. Evans conceded, "but you should find a balance between fun and work. You're going to regret waiting."

"There is still a week left until school resumes. I promise I will begin it tomorrow, father," Petunia said.

"Good," Mr. Evans heaved, returning to his plate. "What have you been doing without all that homework, Lily" he wondered aloud while lifting a fork.

Lily, gulping the water she had been drinking, said, "I played in the snow all afternoon with James. We made a snowman and left plenty of snow-angels in the park."

Petunia snorted, unable to conceal her amusement at this. Mrs. Evans rolled her eyes. Mr. Evans, on the other hand, looked at his daughter as though he could not believe his mature daughter would still pursue such childish things. Hiding his astonishment, he said, "That sounds like fun."

"It was," Lily agreed.

"If I didn't know better, I would say you were enamored with that boy," Mr. Evans said authoritatively.

Lily, her eyes widening with surprise and her faces growing paler – thankfully, no one noticed this – gazed upon her father with shock at such a suggestion. "I, in love with James? You have got to be kidding," Lily rebuked.

"It does seem to me that you are awfully attached to him," Mrs. Evans said, joining defensively her husband.

"I can assure you I am not," Lily stated strongly before occupying herself with chewing her lasagna.

Her parents viewed her with suspicion for many seconds. Petunia looked as though she were disgusted by her sister. After some moments they resumed eating their food; they may have dismissed the topic, but for Lily, fears and anxieties were swarming around her head like a flock of birds, blocking out everything else. She felt as if her parents were constantly watching her, and their stare penetrated her to the depths of her soul. They didn't know, but they suspected, and that was enough to scare her.

She felt as if their suspicions were ever confirmed, her entire world would collapse in a heap; even though she knew that James would always be there to guide, console, and comfort her, she would lose her family, and if anything, she was least willing to abandon that. Nothing frightened her more than irritating her parents. Nothing horrified her more than displeasing them. They may never interfere with her relationship with James, but they would certainly worry that he was affecting her in a negative way. They would never allow themselves to meet the good side of him. That was why she was unwilling to impart the truth: not for her sake, nor for her family's, but for that of James. She wanted to protect him from the truth of how her family regarded him.


	2. Ruminations on a Lily

James Potter collapsed, exhausted, upon his bed without even removing his glasses. He had stayed awake so late the previous night that now, even at just seven in the evening, it felt like midnight. His eyes seared whenever he looked out of them and they yearned to do nothing but shut. He yawned every few minutes. He could barely move his limbs.

James stared out of the window to his side, watching the snow, illuminated by the streetlights, fly violently. Torrents and blankets of white, it seemed, had come alive to fight and fly, collide and elude. The moon pierced through the clouds and illumined everything in a faint blue glow. The crystals glistened in its light.

James yawned yet again and tried to close his eyes, tried to fall asleep; however, only a few seconds had passed before the door to his bedroom was thrown open. The boy rose from his blankets, surprised. The light from the corridor showed black figure standing there, whom he registered to be their house-elf Agnim from the pointy ears, the short height, and the incredibly long nose. The house-elf, peering into the room, saw that James was there and approached. He staggered over his pillowcase shirt on the way, for it reached almost to his ankles. "Master, why did you not join your parents for dinner?" the house-elf asked curiously as he stopped beside his bed.

"I am too tired, I am afraid. I just want to sleep," James replied indifferently, sitting up on his mattress. He rubbed his half-closed, red eyes, trying to regain complete awareness.

"You slept plenty last night! You must have gotten ten hour's of sleep at least." the house-elf retorted disbelievingly.

"I actually stayed awake until four in the morning, to tell you the truth. Therefore, I just got four." James corrected.

"What could merit your staying awake to such a ridiculous hour?" Agnim inquired.

"I was completing that ridiculous homework we were assigned by McGonagall over the holidays. I swear, that woman's heartless. Don't you agree?" James had extracted himself from his blankets and was beginning to climb out of his bed, though his legs refused. Petrified, he could barely move them. Pain surged through them as he forced his muscles to move so that he could stand on the carpet.

"The way in which you speak about her suggests that she is the most deceitful, heartless person there is," Agnim indulged him.

"Exactly, that's what she is," James sighed as he stretched his arms and yawned yet again. He stumbled forward to his window to survey the landscape of Magnolia Crescent. Agnim did not turn to watch him but obeyed his intuition and began to make James's bed. Folding the blankets, he observed to James, "We're eating potatoes and ham tonight. Are you sure you would not like to have some?"

"Yes, Agnim, I'm not that hungry. I snacked with Lily plenty earlier," James replied. He withdrew from the window and sat down on his chair. With his hands folded, he rubbed them together in the vain attempt of warming himself. Agnim noticed that his eyes were concentrated fiercely on them.

"Master, is there anything wrong?" Agnim asked, completely forgetting his endeavor to restore the bed to perfection.

James sighed and lifted his head to look at Agnim, "Could you bring me some mince pie?" he asked, his face contorted with tiredness.

"Certainly, Master, Agnim answered and left the room. James stretched his arms out once again and lied against his chair. A clock ticked in the background. The wind tore against his window, rattling it occasionally. Faint laughter drifted from the house next door. James listened to it all and wished it were all but a dream.

He didn't understand why he was constantly wishing everything in his life, everything about it, were derived from nothing but a dream from which he would awaken. He didn't understand himself what pained him as much as it did in his present circumstances; all he did know was that he was trapped, that he could not tolerate enduring another day in the present conditions. Yet he continued to do so and probably would for as long as he lived. There was no reason, logic told him, that he should be as discouraged as he was; he had friends, he was wealthy, he was popular – he was everything one could aspire to be. In this position he didn't expect that one could experience a discontent as severe as this.

He wanted more; he was not sure yet exactly what that more was. All he was aware of was that his heart craved to increase its sense of vanity more and more. Was it more fame beyond the Quidditch field and the corridors of Hogwarts? Was it more romance? Was it more free time? Was it more mischief? He himself could not analyze his feelings sufficiently to determine what desire it was that troubled him so. He supposed that it was a vague, unattainable fantasy of enhancing his already indulged lifestyle, a mindless vortex of chaos to which there was no end but only expanding boundaries that one could never reach no matter how hard they tried. This abyss haunted him. He despised and loved it.

Nothing in his life brought him satisfaction, it seemed; what was enjoyable was but a temporary escapade in which he could briefly distract himself from the agony. Quidditch and his friends, through them he relished in a short diversion from the pain of it all. That was all they afforded him: a meaningless distraction, for the darkness would seep back into his heart sooner or later, once the activity ceased.

James supposed that he was selfish. He didn't deny to himself that he was enamored with himself, that his whole world revolved around bettering his own existence and not those of others around him. Everyone praised, adored, and embraced him. Did he return the favor? He was troubled in the knowledge that the answer was no. He treasured the glory given him but did not even attempt to distribute it among his peers; he isolated it to himself and his heart, whether he liked it or not, secretly preferred that it be that way. Everyone exalted him as though he were a god. They did not do this for his moral abilities but his intellect. His mind, brilliant, ingenious, and clever, was unsurpassed in all of Hogwarts, with the possible exceptions of his peers Lily Evans, Remus Lupin, and Severus Snape. He demonstrated in all of his classes a refined mind with a gift for learning. He displayed on the Quidditch field an eye and a strategy that would rival even the professionals. He exhibited even in his mischief a creativity and ingenuity that most could only dream of having. It was observed among the staff of Hogwarts and among some of the more mature of his class that he was not the most caring personality; he tended to pursue things only in the name of self-interest without any concern for how they would impact others. This concerned the staff, Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster, in particular, whenever James and the Marauders were found to have harassed a student on their way to class, turned an office upside-down, and the like. What troublesome thoughts these events brought were soon forgotten as James proved yet again that he possessed all of the abilities essential to sustaining a modern society.

As deficient as he was in the area of compassion extended toward his peers and elders, James excelled in his studies, had proven such an outrageous success at Quidditch, that anyone who dared raise the question of disciplining, punishing him was soon shunned as being too close-minded, too old-fashioned.

James sighed and looked out of the window at the blowing snow again. The wind whistled and howled; the snow curled, soared, and drifted. The moon quivered in the rush.

There was a trace of hope left for him, he surmised assuredly; he had found Lily Evans. The brightest student of their class, Lily, though slightly annoyed with his mischievous antics, supported, carried, and guided him. She was there to offer a compassionate heart for him; he couldn't help it that he was taken with her too. He felt a care for her he did for no other person in his life, with the possible exception of Sirius Black; he genuinely worried about her. He wished her the best in her relationship with her family, with Petunia. He lost count of the number of times that he proffered to her his shoulder as a comforting place on which to shed a tear. Whenever accused of being a most cruel spirit toward his peers, Lily was the first, even among the Marauders, to rise to his defense. He was grateful for her presence in his life. She was like the sister to whom his parents had never given birth.

He recalled vividly their first meeting; it was at King's Cross Station that he found her parents and her lingering between platforms nine and ten, looking confused. Initially dismissing them as those dull tourists with no lives from America, likely traveling to Edinburgh, Canterbury, or Oxford from London, he strolled beside his parents to Platform 9 ¾ to reach the train to Hogwarts. Then as he was striding toward the brick barrier, he heard the mother of the family complain aloud that they could not locate any platform as the one described on the ticket. He realized then that the girl he had ignored was going to be a classmate of his at Hogwarts. He whipped around, to the surprise of his parents, and neared the family. Graciously he clarified to them what they were to do, that they were to walk toward the barrier separating Platform 9 3/4. Looking at though they suspected that he was encouraging them to injure themselves, the family finally obeyed what he said. He walked beside their daughter and crossed the barrier with her, followed by his parents. As they marched along, he saw out of the corner of his eye that she was graceful; her eyes were a beautiful green and her hair, a violent red, fell against her warm face like strings of silk. The girl was wearing a visibly worried face, as though frightened by the way used to reach the platform. He assured her that everything was fine, that it was safe. He watched her as they collided with – without feeling anything – the barrier. She had closed her eyes with a painful concentration, as though dreading that her forehead would collide against stone. Once she realized that she hadn't, she opened them with joy.

The train to Hogwarts sat before them, releasing a thick steam that floated abysmally above the crowd congregated there. Before he could move the girl whispered, as though from a distance, "Thank you!" to him and disappeared. He saw her elegant hair for a few seconds and then it vanished.

It wasn't long until he saw her again. At the Sorting Ceremony in the Great Hall, somehow the two of them found themselves standing right next to each other. His body was shaking softly, not from anxiety about which house he was placed in, but from the nervousness of the knowledge that beside him was that girl from the train, that pretty girl. He felt uncomfortable around her, as though she were different from the rest there. He wanted to reach out his hand and take hers, to promise her that she would survive this ceremony (her face was sweating profusely and her eyes were twitching). Then he remembered that about one thousand people would witness this and laugh.

Lily was selected for the house of Gryffindor. After this occurred, he noticed that his heart craved to join that house too, not to continue a family tradition of belonging to that house, but to be with her in classes and in the common room. He wanted to develop a friendship with her. He wanted to become acquainted with her in the same way he had with Peter Pettigrew, his long childhood friend.

These thoughts, he reminded himself, were not normal; why was he this interested in a girl? It was completely abnormal that he should actually not mind to interact with one. It wasn't common for an eleven-year-old to care about one. But he did.

The Sorting Hat decided that he belonged in Gryffindor also. Concealing his delight, he deposited himself in a seat right beside Lily Evans, where she congratulated him. He felt himself blushing. He hoped she didn't notice.

They didn't speak again that night. He didn't know what to say to her.

Two weeks later during broomstick practice with Madam Hooch had directed them to fly gently; they weren't prepared to travel at the speeds seen at Quidditch games. She discouraged them from going any higher than one story and going any faster than walking speed. All the students obeyed her except Lily, who seemed to have no idea how to dictate to her broom how to behave. As soon she laid her hands on the handle, the broom soared like a jet into the sky, almost as fast as a professional player. Her panicked screams echoed in the silence. Many students yelled in terror as Madam Hooch yelled at her to return. Realizing that this was futile, James seized his broom, clutched it, and soared into the air after Lily, slamming his legs against the sides as fiercely as he can. "Hurry up!" he demanded of it, impatient and restless. Lily screamed louder than ever as she traveled over the Forbidden Forest.

Her broom collided against something invisible in the air. Her broom violently came to a stop and a loud roar echoed in the silence. She flipped over, flying through the air, and hit the invisible creature. Her screams didn't last long. There was a freakish slam and there were no more cries for her. A violent rush of wind reached James's ears. Something invisible landed against the branches of the trees of the Forbidden Forest and broke off branches, large ones, as it fell. Lily was going down with it. James, worried immensely now, flew forward into the trees, weaving in and out of their way to locate the girl in the darkness. He found her lying in a bloody heap on the forest floor, where a centaur called Firenze was attending to her.

"One should not fly over the forest. You might not see the Thestrals," he stated as James landed and rushed toward Lily. "This is what happened to this lady."

James collapsed on the ground beside Lily, tears in his eyes, his face covered with dirt and scratches. He lifted an arm and dragged it against her unconscious face. Her hand lied helplessly open, with her palm open toward the sky. Her eyes were opened and fixed upon nothing

Firenze vanished into the trees of the Forbidden Forest, stating that he was going to seek medical assistance from the castle for the girl. He told James not to divulge this to any other centaurs, should he meet any.

Madam Pomfrey, Professor Slughorn, and Rubeus Hagrid arrived in the forest a few minutes later. They magically carried Lily back to the castle where she was treated in the hospital wing for the severe injuries she had sustained. James rarely left her side. Once she awoke after a week's of being unconsciousness, she clutched his hand and thanked him for helping him, risking expulsion in the process.

Since that time they had forged a strong friendship.

James was distracted from these apathetic ruminations as Agnim noisily re-entered his bedroom, carrying a plate holding mince pie. The grinning house-elf announced, "Here's your food, Master!" The servant then gave the plate to his master, who immediately lifted the fork and indulged his mouth with the succulent pleasure of it.

Agnim watched him appreciatively, as though waiting for James to give him another order and happy to do nothing else but follow it. James, after wiping his face, asked for a drink, which Agnim quickly presented him with.

James couldn't wait until his date the next afternoon with Lily.


	3. The Famous Chaser

The following morning James extricated himself with much difficulty from the many blankets covering his body. He awoke feeling as ill as he could ever recall himself in his life; his head swam with complete numbness, his throat beat with soreness, and his nostrils were filled with irksome mucus. James endeavored to earn the pity of all he could as soon as these symptoms became apparent. Before long all of those closest to him had come to pity him for the miserable condition to which he had fallen due to spending too much time in the snow the previous day with Lily. Whatever hurtfully sarcastic remarks he may have directed toward them, they came to dismiss these as the frivolity of the juvenile James and treated him as lovingly as ever.

This was the manner in which James frequently behaved; he had found that no other method afforded him the freedom he desperately sought as well as this one. His selfishness dominated and often overwhelmed others, often suppressing and almost abusing them; however, whenever the need arose, he would petition for their mercy for any occasion that may have arisen, in which he found his soul in a most dreary state. Once they saw that poor young soul struggle, they forgot his sometimes malevolent personality and sympathized with him, offering a compassionate hand through which he could derive some sense of comfort despite the oppressive circumstances.

The day on which we happen to be recounting our tale was a Sunday. Lily, as you could expect, was dragged along with her sister Petunia by her parents to attend the morning service at the Little Whinging Lutheran Church. She had hoped that she could persuade her parents that she was too thoroughly exhausted to actually even pay attention during the service, that she would not gain any spiritual wisdom from the event. Her parents, however, were adamant in their conviction that she ought to establish their good church-going traditions in her life, so that the Holy Spirit could fill her soul and guide her to wisdom. They were especially worried about whether the presence of James in her life was influencing her goodliness. So Lily, whether she liked it or not, was forced to don her most elegant attire reserved usually for dances at Hogwarts and attend a service at eight in the morning when she would have preferred to sleep.

As she reiterated the Nicene Creed along with her congregation, Lily ruminated to herself that this was completely unreasonable. James, her beloved, was not obligated by his parents to attend any church. He merely and sporadically visited any random church located across the town of Little Whinging in order to secure for himself among some an image as a moral man, to combat the popular perception of him as a most grievous spirit. No one really complained that what James was doing, visiting any church every once in a while but not becoming integrated and established in the society of one, was questionable. They determined amongst themselves that a man of intellect along the line of James, could not possibly isolate himself to one congregation and his bright mind would require that he explore as wide an array of Christian options as he could. It didn't really matter, they reminded themselves, which congregation he joined, for they had all become the same, according to the conservative eye.

All churches, Lily's parents had often stated to her, had deteriorated to the point of sacrificing theology for convenience; in order to ensure that they could sustain their congregations and appeal to new members, these churches did not stress the sin with which all souls of humanity were cursed. No congregation devoted much time to deploring over the human condition and the hope that one could only find through Jesus. Instead, they emphasized good will, the community, and charitable spirits to support our fellow neighbor; less darkness and more light, the priests believed, would render their churches more modern, accustomed to the liberality of the time. All churches became similar in their appearance once their purposes were lowered to this. What did it matter that James wasn't consistent?

As Lily received the Eucharist at the altar, James himself was sitting at his desk overlooking Magnolia Crescent, his hands holding the many letters that he had received over the holidays from his many female admirers at Hogwarts. Among them were such personalities as that giddy Rita Skeeter, that mindless Bertha Jorkins, and that hopeless Gladys Gudgeon. James smiled as he perused these letters and discerned their content. These females, he knew, were not actively seeking his affections; they were merely corresponding affectionately with him, for nearly every female in his year cherished him as though he were an idol. James withdrew some parchment from his drawers, lifted his quill into the ink bottle, and began scribbling away replies to their notes as quickly as he could.

He first answered the correspondence from Gladys Gudgeon; she being one of the most remarkable young women he knew, he couldn't help it that he was biased in her favor. Besides that, she was one of the most marvelous Chasers in all of Hogwarts. Playing for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, she had earned for them more points in one year than any other in history. James himself, a Seeker, was stunned that a player as talented as she was not already receiving requests to join a professional team and simply terminate the rest of her education at Hogwarts. She soared through the air and threw the Quaffle with an energy that he envied and admired. She was the only hope he found in the team; without her, it would fail; without her, it would fall apart. She was the only redeeming part about it.

James had considered relinquishing his position as Captain for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team until he discovered her talents; once he did, his interest in the team was completely reinvigorated. Watching her play was a splendor that he could not deny, nor anyone else in all of Hogwarts; Gladys Gudgeon had earned for herself a reputation as the most spectacular player in all of Hogwarts. She became regarded as one of the most popular, most talented, most amazing personalities in all of Hogwarts. People feared and worshipped her. James himself was just proud of her. He felt no need to demand anything of her on the Pitch; she was more competent at dictating a game than he was, he even admitted to himself. She far surpassed him in talent and he was certain that once he left Hogwarts she would replace him.

With Gladys Gudgeon securing a celebrity as the great Chaser of Hogwarts, James actually took some interest at the last in the Quidditch practice. For the first time in his two years of administering the team, he had actually looked forward to their meeting sessions and actually cared about the games in which they played. Neither did he have to worry much about these said games. Gladys Gudgeon was such a fierce force with the Quaffle that she was dreaded by the three other houses; James arrogantly boasted that Gryffindor's was the best team, when in fact it wasn't. The only difference that separated this team from the rest was Glady Gudgeon. She was unrivaled.

James quickly abandoned any interest he may have once taken in the Gobstones Club at Hogwarts; he originally had hoped to forsake his Captaincy in order to concentrate on that Club. Once Gladys came, he completely forgot about it and no longer attended its meetings. Not as if he didn't need a reason – the boy he despised, Snivellus, that detestable Severus Snape, was one of the most talented members of the club, inheriting his skills through his mother. James would have enjoyed the meetings of the Club more were it not for the fact that Severus was always there to antagonize him.

James folded his reply to Gladys, inserted it into an envelope, sealed it shut, and awoke his barn soul Edna in her cage. Disoriented at first as he poked her, she quickly came to her senses, accepted his delivery, ruffled her wings, and soared out of the window. James watched her fly away across the cloudy sky, into the white, until he could no longer. He would respond to the letters from Rita Skeeter and Bertha Jorkins when Edna returned; he wasn't as anxious to answer to them as quickly as he did with Gladys. Gladys was special to him.

He wondered to himself how Lily would react to the knowledge that he was actively corresponding by owl, sending affections to, many girls present in their own class. He was worried that Lily, offended, might reject him. However, how could she justify such a hasty gesture? The letters he sent and received were nothing but friendly sentiment; he was sure to limit it to that. He didn't need anyone else in his romantic life. Lily was sufficient. She was a thoroughly charming girl. By far more enchanting than Rita, Bertha, or Gladys, he doubted any girl could offer him the same pleasures that Lily, that brilliant spirit, did.

James, lost in thought yet again, dragged his fingers through his hair, messing it yet again. Then he lifted a photograph from his desk, in which he and Lily were dancing at the Christmas Ball held a few weeks ago at Hogwarts. He maintained to his parents that he was unable to find a date (nor were any of the other Marauders, for they were too selective) and neither was Lily and so the two went as friends. He didn't confess to them that this was their first, to be technical with the term, date in their relationship. He doubted they were prepared for him to become involved with girls so shortly after his fourteenth birthday.

Lily, wearing a vividly purple dress of silk that sparkled in the torches, held James, in a tight tuxedo, in her arms as they spun around the Great Hall. Both of their faces were expressive of nothing but pure and endless joy.

James deposited the picture on the desk, lifted a hand to his face, and wiped a tear before it had descended the entire contour of his cheek. He knew that Lily didn't love him genuinely, didn't hold a fondness for him in the same way that Rita, Bertha, and Gladys did. He knew that she was merely exploiting him. Lily had simply captured him, because she knew that he was attracted to her, in order to gain the envy of all of the other girls in Hogwarts. She was doing it not for love's sake, but for her own image. An unpopular girl prior to attending the dance with him, she had now secured for herself a regard rarely given to any girl at Hogwarts; she was the object of plenty of rabid discussion in the corners of common rooms and the corridors and the classrooms; many girls spent hours wondering among themselves how it was possible for a girl of mediocre quality like Lily to seize a guy like James. There were far better girls for him out there than her, they thought.

James sighed and watched a car travel past down the street. He wanted to reject her; he wanted to get Lily out of his life. Yet he loved her. No matter how she viewed him, his ardor for her knew no boundaries. He couldn't find one. Unable to do so, he was forced to concede to himself that it was truly his situation, not Lily's, that was hopeless. Regardless of how Lily treated him in her mind, he was unable to bring himself to take her out of his life, to muster the courage to bring the moment to its crisis. He didn't dare disturb the universe. He liked it the way it is.

This is the way the world ends: not with a bang but a whimper.


End file.
